Confessions of a Dark Lord
by uleanblue
Summary: Musings of our favorite Dark Lord, in the form of drabbles. Will eventually contain LV/HG
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- This is basically just stuff my tired brain coughed out, and I'll probably add to it periodically as inspiration strikes. They'll be like little journal entries, or letters, or random thoughts. Because why not, right? **

* * *

I have labored with single minded determination for decades, literally _decades_ to build my reputation as a merciless, fearsome dictator, and I can say- wholly, and without reservation- that I have succeeded.

My very presence instantly strikes terror in the heart of nearly everyone around me.

Which should be supremely gratifying, though, alas, I fear I may have succeeded all too well, because I have reached the unfortunate conclusion that if you've seen one person wet their pants in fear, you've seen them all-and I don't care what the house elves say, that smell simply does not ever completely come out and incinerating the rugs on a weekly basis has become exceedingly tiresome.

Perhaps tile or laminate would be a more appropriate decorative option.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, this week got off to a simply smashing start as I bore witness to the rather dismal spectacle of Bellatrix torching several of Lucius's prized peacocks because, she believed, they were conspiring against her.

Which, knowing Lucius as I do, is entirely possible. Those birds are a damned menace.

Lucius appeared completely traumatized, which was then exacerbated when Nagini, in a shining example of Slytherin opportunism, swooped in and polished off the carcasses.

And while the episode did provide some marginal degree of entertainment, it has highlighted what I suspect is a fundamental weakness in the Death Eater application process.

It might be beneficial in the long term to shift the weighted scoring from "cruelty" and "ability to terrorize" to "basic competency."

Oh, Hell. Maybe just a tick box where the applicant must check "Not a Raving Loon."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, so someone recently asked about a sequel to The Facilities Expert, and this is probably as close as I'm going to get anytime soon. I have no plot in mind and the entire concept for this whole Confessions story literally popped into existence in a matter of hours, so..we'll see? **

**At least writing this is a pleasant break as I am experiencing a bit of a block with the last part of Euphoria. I mean, it's all plotted and roughed out and partly written, but every time I sit down to write my brain goes 'blergh!' and nothing comes out. **

**Anyway, I own nothing. Enjoy**!

* * *

To the average wizard, last night's raid on the Ministry could be described as a resounding failure-though I have always viewed myself as more of a 'glass half full' sort of person, because really, one does not become Absolute Ruler of Wizarding Britain by being a pessimistic git.

Also, I have never been average.

Ever.

But I digress.

Though the team failed to retrieve the artifact I sought-and oh, yes, such a colossal display of ineptitude will be addressed at Large Group Evaluation later (usually followed by individual "sessions" that I admit I find enormously therapeutic)-I did obtain what could be considered a fantastic consolation prize in the form of one Hermione Granger.

She is surprisingly powerful and at the moment, absolutely raging, and I was not so secretly entertained when -even wandless- she managed to hex Draco so that he broke out in boils and all his hair, including his eyebrows, fell out.

Actually, except for the large spotted L on his forehead, he currently bears a faint resemblance to me, and I am half tempted to complete the look by removing his nose.

Of course, Lucius would probably have a seizure.

Serves him right.

At least his preening spawn won't be posturing his way through the corridors of Hogwarts anytime soon.

Speaking of which, i should pop in to see if the Prefect's Bath is still as delightfully decadent as I remember.

As far as Miss Granger is concerned I will have to carefully consider how I may best put this opportunity to use.

Granted, the taunt factor towards Potter alone is nearly invaluable, but I confess that after my brief foray into the girl's head I can't help but speculate about her potential. While she is rather gratingly self righteous, and Sweet Bloody Salazar, about as tightly wound as a clock spring, she possesses a combination of charming naivete and ruthless intellectualism that is oddly fetching.

The girl clearly has more than two IQ points to rub together, which is more than can be said for an alarmingly large number of my followers. Her response to my proximity as well as her hilariously perceptive insight on Bellatrix-who, honestly, could be the poster girl on the Horrors of Halitosis-was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.

She just needs to loosen up a bit.

And I know just the right incentive.

Side note: A brief paragraph on proper oral hygiene shall be added to the next edition of the Training Manual.


	4. Chapter 4

So Bellatrix keeps attempting to flirt with me.

And when I say flirt, I mean she leans forward suggestively in my direction while quickly tilting her head from side to side and baring her teeth in what she must imagine is a pleasing, attractive smile.

She looks like a palsied vulture.

It's quite distracting, and not in a good way.

There may have been a time in the bloom of her youth when that tactic was effective, but darling, that ship not only sailed long ago, it sank like the bloody Titanic, taking all hands down with it.

The issue is further complicated by the fact that if I punish her for such an unseemly display of over familiarity, she will completely misconstrue my actions as signifying some sort of reciprocity of feeling.

She is irritatingly oblivious to my attempts at ignoring her.

If this continues much longer I'm afraid drastic measures may be called for.

Unfortunately the insane harpy clearly gets off on being crucio'd, so I have no intention of giving her _that_ particular satisfaction.

Oh, I see what I did there.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- I own nothing. I will probably intersperse the Hermione related bits with the random ones, so for now I don't really have a linear progression in mind here. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

On the rare occasion when I feel out of sorts-yes, it happens, even to me- I find the best way to jolt myself out of a torpor is to engage myself in some sort of recreational activity.

Sometimes I'll round up an assortment of low ranking Death Eaters and invite them to participate in what I refer to as "Team Building Exercises."

It is quite invigorating and enjoyable. Well, for me anyway.

In other instances I will make my way to the owlery, and send the entire flock out to defile Dumbledore's monument. It usually takes Hagrid an entire day to clean all the shit off.

Or I sneak into the Ministry and transfigure the fountain so that it resembles a gigantic pair of rutting Graphorns, complete with sound effects. That one's _hilarious_.

Of course one of my favorites is to simply select a person to play "Pet the Snake." Nagini is actually quite a good sport through the whole affair and will generally only claim a foot or perhaps a few fingers.

Good times.


	6. Chapter 6

There are a large number of people who labor under the misperception that being a Dark Lord is just one great big, never ending carnival of torture and destruction and well, _it is that_, but what they fail to realize is the herculean amount of administrative oversight required to mount a successful government takeover.

The logistics alone are an absolute nightmare.

While a select few of my Death Eaters are reasonable talented, or passable academics-such as Draco Malfoy- the overwhelming majority simply do not possess the varied skillsets necessary to effectively manage such a vast entity as the Ministry.

Seriously, their critical thinking skills begin and end with _Avada Kedavra_.

I have no intention of pulling off a successful coup, only to have it quickly collapse under the weight of inbred incompetency.

Having caught wind of the disgruntled mutterings of Malfoy's spawn regarding Potter's bushy haired accomplice and her superior academic performance, I have concluded that extreme measures must be taken.

As much as I have publicly espoused the Pureblood ideology- which, lets face it, I really only supported because it afforded me the galleons I needed to advance my _own_ agenda-I must take into consideration the unorthodox necessity of installing _capable_ individuals into certain positions.

Without automatically disregarding their potential because of their blood status.

Therefore, I have decided to test the mudblood's intellect for myself.

If the result is satisfactory, I shall recruit her.

Which will go over about as well as the proverbial turd in a punchbowl.

As per usual, dissenters can challenge my judgement at their own peril.


	7. Chapter 7

Many people believe that my possession of that imbecile Quirrell was simply a strategic move that ultimately backfired as a result of both his ineptitude, and an astoundingly improbable confluence of factors involving the young Mister Potter and his cohorts.

Well, in truth I must confess that after a prolonged period of incorporeality, taking up residence on the back of that babbling twit's head was a desperate, impulsive maneuver that I soon came to bitterly regret.

I shall not ever discuss the turban.

I just...I _won't_.

Nor shall I ever speak of the unmitigated horror of what I was forced to witness of Quirrell's personal..._habits_ from my unique vantage point.

If there was a single, loyal follower I could trust to simply erase those memories from my brain, I would. But, alas, I must endeavor to bear the trauma in a manner befitting a Dark Lord. Which basically means that on such occasions that I recall a particular awful memory, I will transfer my anguish to the nearest available recipient will all due expediency. It's surprisingly effective, and far less expensive than shelling out multiple galleons for the utterly extortive psychiatric copayment they want over at Mungo's.

The entire system really should be overhaul - oh, wait.

In retrospect, it was probably best that I was unable to ever fully wrest motor function control from Quirrell, as Dumbles might have grown suspicious far earlier if he'd seen him repeatedly punching himself in the face.

Honestly, if it had been possible, I would have shaken Potter's hand for burning that nattering moron to a cinder, but by that point I was once again reduced to a state of Cloudy with a Chance of Evil.

A


End file.
